


Taste You

by there_must_be_a_lock



Series: Marked [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Grimy Filthy Porn, F/M, NSFW, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 17:17:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21039869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/there_must_be_a_lock/pseuds/there_must_be_a_lock
Summary: A filthy smutty timestamp set somewhere early in the Marked ‘verse. This stands alone, though, as there is zero plot involved. Author regrets nothing.





	Taste You

Dean’s hair was still damp with sweat at the temples when I ran my fingers through it. He made an appreciative purring noise, his breath hot on the bare skin of my breastbone. He was sprawled out face-down, lying between my legs, using my chest as a pillow; I could see every inch of smooth golden skin and muscle, down to where the rumpled motel sheets draped over the curve of his ass. The view was good enough that I didn’t want to close my eyes, even though I was at the point of fucked-out exhaustion where everything was starting to go fuzzy at the edges. 

I couldn’t help but touch, run my fingers over the freckles, brush imaginary patterns over the bare skin with my fingertips, massage the back of his neck, scratch his scalp until his hair stood up at impossible angles… I was so sore I could barely move, but I also couldn’t seem to stop touching Dean. 

“Shit, you’re gonna put me to sleep,” Dean mumbled. He nuzzled into my chest, rubbing slightly with his cheek, for all the world like an overgrown cat settling in for a nap. 

“‘s probably about that time,” I said lazily. The clock next to the bed read 4:23. 

Dean shifted, and the muscles in his shoulders rolled under my palms. He dragged his mouth up my chest, between my breasts, and licked at a purpling bruise he’d left under my collarbone.

“Salty,” he commented, with an exaggerated smack of his lips. 

“Wonder how I could’ve gotten all sweaty. ‘S a mystery.” 

He nibbled at another swollen-red patch of skin. I tilted my head back to give him better access and closed my eyes, arching back into the pillows so that he could press his lips to the underside of my jaw. I sighed happily, half-asleep, everything going dreamlike and syrupy-slow. 

“Don’t you punk out on me now,” Dean whispered, and punctuated it with a nip to my earlobe. “Not done with you.” 

I almost grimaced. Dean was  _ big _ , was the thing, and I still wasn’t used to the way I could feel him for days after we fucked. No matter how wet I’d been, how ready, there was always a lingering sting, a dull ache between my legs where he’d stretched me open, a reminder of him that I savored… but he’d been insatiable that night, even more so than usual, and I was so sore that I honestly couldn’t imagine being able to come again. 

“I’m not sure I’m physically capable of - Dean, I think you  _ broke _ me with that last one.” 

Dean laughed and kissed me. My mouth felt puffy and bruised already, raw skin stinging when he sucked on my lower lip, but I felt like I was melting, blanketed by the heat of his body, helpless as he deepened the kiss. My oversensitized nerve endings were humming in spite of the protests from my aching muscles. 

I gasped when he finally pulled away, but he didn’t give me a moment to catch my breath; his mouth found the sensitive spot under my ear, working it between his teeth until my head was spinning. 

He started to wriggle his way down my body. The movement pressed his hip into my inner thigh and I hissed at the throb of pain; I was already bruised there from the way he’d held my legs open and fucked into me earlier, hard and merciless, and a shiver of heat went through me at the reminder. 

My entire body was one big ache. Every sensation was magnified a hundredfold, my skin raw and sensitive. His tongue swirled over my nipple and I whimpered, squirming away from the first wave of sensation and then immediately arching up to chase the heat of his mouth when he pulled away. 

“I’m not sure if I can-  _ fuck _ , I can’t  _ believe _ you’re ready for another round right now,” I panted, as he mouthed down to my bellybutton. “I’m so fucking sore, I -“ His hands found my hips, fingers pressing into the bruises he’d left there earlier. 

”Just want to taste you,” he said, the words muffled against my skin. He was dragging his mouth down from my hipbone to the crease of my thigh, tongue darting out in teasing little kitten licks, kissing and sucking every bit of skin he could find. I could feel his breath ghosting over my pussy when he paused and said, “Please?”

As if I could say no to that. 

“Yeah, okay, just -“ I started, but it trailed off into a high whine when I felt the first slow caress of a lick at my entrance. 

He didn’t go anywhere near my swollen, over-sensitive clit, and I was grateful; it would’ve been too much, too intense. Instead it was all slick, soft, wet pressure as he fucked me slowly with his tongue, shallow languid strokes that had me sighing happily and practically floating with each sweet, gentle wave of pleasure. 

When he pulled back I groaned, but he was just resettling himself between my thighs, pushing my legs farther apart and spreading me open. He looked up at me through his long lashes, smoldering and heavy-lidded. His mouth was shining obscenely. 

“You taste like  _ me _ ,” he growled, and before I could even process the animalistic twist of heat that went through me at the words, he was thrusting his tongue into me again, wet and eager, and moaning at the taste of me, the taste of  _ us _ . There was something so primal about that idea, something that made me feel possessed, claimed, and suddenly the soreness didn’t matter. I was tilting my hips up to meet him, rubbing myself shamelessly against his mouth, so desperate I was dizzy with it. 

“Oh, fuck, Dean, I need you, please, need you,” I slurred. I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling, and he finally looked up at me again. 

“Yeah?” he panted. 

“Gotta go slow,” I said hoarsely. “I don’t know if I can - “ 

He was crawling up the bed before I could finish the sentence. He cut me off with a kiss, deep and hungry, and his mouth tasted salty-sweet and utterly filthy. 

He rolled me onto my side, snuggling up behind me so that I could feel his bare skin all down my back. I let him move me, too dazed to be anything other than pliant and boneless. For a moment it felt sweet and intimate. He pulled me closer to him and kissed the curve where my neck met my shoulder. Then he was sliding a hand down, making me bend my knee, easing my leg up. 

I was so wet, dripping and slippery with it, that when I arched my back the head of his cock slid into me almost unexpectedly, stretching me open, throbbing where he’d fucked me sore. I twisted in his arms, letting out a rough shout at the pain, and he made a low, soothing sound in my ear. 

“If you don’t want to-“ he whispered, but I shook my head frantically. 

“Slow,” I gasped. 

He worked himself into me inch by hot, thick inch, crooning little words of praise while I tried to hold back my whimpers, and by the time he stopped, buried inside me as deep as he could be, I was trembling all over, overwhelmed by sensation. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight. 

He rocked his hips in a shallow, lazy circle, grinding into me, and the noise I made was barely human. 

“Should I stop?” he asked, low and gravelly. 

I made a pathetic, needy sound and writhed against him, trying to get him deeper. 

He started to move in earnest, then, with a slow rolling thrust, and his ragged moan almost matched mine. I could feel him  _ everywhere _ . He was pulling me against him, one arm wrapped around my chest with his palm over my heart, the other curled around my hip, holding me still with steady arms. Every thrust was so deep, so strong, that I was sure he would tear me apart. 

“Love hearing you beg,” he groaned.

I hadn’t realized, until that second, that I was begging, but sure enough, that was my voice, thin and strained: “Pleasepleasepleaseplease _ please _ …” 

I’d been clutching helplessly at the sheets with the arm I wasn’t lying on, but he slipped his hand over mine, covering it with his palm, and interlaced our fingers. 

“Need you to feel,” he panted into the back of my neck, and he dragged our joined hands down the front of my body. He stopped moving and I whined.

Dean nudged my fingers down until I could feel the place where our bodies met. I ran my fingertip over the slickness at the very base of his cock, feeling the heat of blood pulsing under the velvety skin, the heat where he was  _ in _ me, where he was splitting me open and filling me up, and  _ god _ , I’d never felt anything so perfect or so fucking dirty. 

I clenched around him helplessly, my cunt practically spasming, and his hips jerked forward in response. 

“Oh, fuck,” he choked out. He braced himself with a hand on my lower belly, right over where I could feel the head of his cock, pushing down and increasing the pressure on my g-spot in a way that made my eyes roll back in my head. 

The next thrust was sharp and rough and it felt like a fucking  _ explosion _ . I sobbed, my entire body short-circuiting with the spark of it, and Dean didn’t stop, snapping into me again and again, hitting that same spot with brutal, unerring precision. 

I could feel the orgasm building in my toes, in my fingertips, behind my fucking eyes, my vision dissolving into glowing white as pressure gathered under my skin. It was almost too intense, so big and overwhelming that I wasn’t sure my bones could take it, but I couldn’t pull back, couldn’t control myself, couldn’t do anything but cry out wildly as Dean slammed into me one more time, twitching and shaking and falling over the edge with me. 

The aftershocks were so strong that they felt like seizures. I couldn’t stop shuddering, going rigid and then boneless again in Dean’s arms. 

“How,” I huffed. 

“Hmm?” 

“Never mind,” I said, cutting myself off before I could say something embarrassing, like “how is anyone else ever going to compare to you?” 

He shifted, skin sticking to mine where he was plastered to my back. We were sweaty and disgusting and the entire room reeked, and I didn’t care. 

“Sleepy?” he asked softly, with a hint of a laugh in his voice. 

I meant to say “duh,” but I was asleep before I could draw another breath. 

  
  
  
  



End file.
